Slammed
by MrsSpaceCowboy
Summary: 1988. High school, poofed bangs, and slam books. It's funny how much damage one little spiral notebook can do. *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1 - Sign In

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 1 - Sign In**

* * *

"Welcome back," Mr. Banner says in the hall when Alice and I walk past the door to his classroom.

"Right," she says. "How can he be so cheery?"

"Maybe he got laid over break." I open my locker and give my bangs one last inspection in the small mirror glued to the door before switching out my books to lighten my backpack.

"Grody. But I guess it could happen. Here," she says, shoving a spiral notebook with holographic tie-dyed print on the cover into my hands. "Something for you to do today."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Just do it." Silver bangle bracelets clink and shift when she lifts her hand to wave goodbye. "I'll see you after third."

A glance inside the cover makes me laugh out loud in the middle of the busy hall.

_Another fucking slam book. _

She's done one every year since eighth. This is senior year. You'd think she would've outgrown this by now. At least the title page isn't in bubble letters this time and the ink is black instead of rainbow.

I carry it with me into Banner's room, because if ever there was a class dull enough to warrant a slam book, it's his.

The room is stale from our extended holiday vacation. Dust particles float into the air and hover when I pull out my stool and toss my stuff onto the counter in front of me. Before I have a chance to settle in and get comfortable, someone calls Edward Masen's name from the hall.

Like a lovesick magnet, I glance at the door.

Edward—number 18, in the flesh—is standing there, blocking the exit to the room, with his hand on the door frame. His long fingers are pale and strong against the puke-green paint of the wall.

"I'll see you later, man," he says with a nod.

I glance down at my books to keep from staring as he walks across the room.

He's the president of the French Club. I'm top dog in Spanish. He's English. I'm math. We cross paths here, in chemistry, unfortunately saddled together as lab partners since the first day of school. Neither of us was thrilled about it, and we've spent most of the year ignoring each other.

Well, I ignore him.

We intersect again during the last class of the day, PE, but it's easy to avoid him in a gym full of spazzes.

It's not like I have a choice. He usually smells like hot shower and Drakkar dusted with smoke from hanging out in the parking lot with Jasper Whitlock between classes. He stares. A lot. Not good stares, either. I know my bangs aren't as high as our cheerleader friends' and I'm not slathered in L'Oréal, but I'm not exactly fugly. I don't get why I make him look constipated.

So, yeah. He stares. He also double checks all of my answers when we have to work as partners. Why? I don't know. We're both graduating in the top ten of our class this year.

And it's not just the staring. Every Monday, it's the same old story. He likes to ask what I did over the weekend.

_Really?_

We go to the same parties, live in the same small town, and see each other all the time. And what the hell is there to do in Forks, anyway?

After the third week of school, I started making stuff up.

"_I robbed a bank."_

"_Blew coke with Robert Downey Jr."_

"_Had a threesome with Axl Rose and Duff McKagen."_

I can't remember the others, but he keeps asking.

And for a basketball player, he's surprisingly uncoordinated. I've lost count of the number of times he's bumped into me, stepped on my foot, and tangled pens in my hair this year. I haven't played him one-on-one since junior high, but I have a feeling I could take him now.

There's a reason I'm the best point guard on the girls' team.

"Hey," he says, easing his books onto the lab table without a sound. He sits on his stool, props an elbow on the table, and glances over at me. "How was your Thanksgiving?"

"Killed some pilgrims, stole their turkey, and drove it to Oregon to share with my grandparents. Yours?"

"I had dinner with my mom and her editor. Nothing nearly as exciting as slaughtering pilgrims."

"It's a hard life."

"I hear you guys are playing Port Angeles this week."

"Yep."

The bell rings, and Mr. Banner closes the door in Mike Newton's face, telling him to get a tardy slip from the office.

Edward turns to pay attention, and I reach for the notebook. I've read the chapter twice already, and the lectures in this class are always straight from the book—no discussion, no class participation, just memorization.

Boring.

A smiley face sticker on the cover of the slam book stares back at me, mocking… daring…

_Oh, what the hell? Why not?_

Famous last words.

**Choose a number and sign in. **

_Pfft. _

Like I'm going to sign my name to this. Other girls have. These are the ones I don't have to worry will see my answers. They've already done it. Tanya, Alice (of course), Maria, Angela, Lauren… The list goes on.

A few guys have signed in, too. Ben, Emmett, Newton, and Tyler. This should be good.

"18" isn't taken, so I choose it.

If only it would choose me.

And because I'm a loser coward, I don't use my name. I use _my _jersey number. I'm supposed to answer these questions honestly, and I can't do that as Bella Swan.

_**18\. 24**_

* * *

**A/N – I've missed y'all. This story is complete. The chapters are short, so I'll post 3 a week on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. **

**Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things. Thanks to M and Nic for reading the first chapter of this 3 or 4 years ago and never forgetting it. Prodding does wonders sometimes. Thanks to Lizzie Paige for a perfect banner. Thanks to all the ladies at TLS for the sneak peek. **

**Thank you for reading. See you Wednesday. **

**MSC**


	2. Chapter 2 - Favorite Music?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 2 – Favorite Music? Favorite Groups? Singers?**

* * *

It's a habit of mine to read everyone else's answers when making my way through a slam book. Otherwise, what's the point?

I have to go back a page when I see Chicago and Spandau Ballet.

Tanya. She spends most of her time crying in the bathrooms between classes. Now I see why. Not that I don't like a good tearjerker every now and then; I just want it delivered by a hot guy wearing ripped jeans or leather instead.

This one's easy.

_**Prince, Guns N' Roses, Mötley Crüe, Bon Jovi, George Michael, Poison, Bangles, Cyndi Lauper…**_

Banner drones on and on, but he also starts walking around the classroom because someone's whispering. I'm not the only person ignoring him. I close the notebook, trying not to be obvious about it, and slide it under my folder to keep him from taking it.

Edward watches me cover it and raises a brow in curiosity.

I shrug and face forward, furiously copying the notes projected on the huge white screen at the front of the class.

"Since when do you take notes in here?" Edward whispers.

"Since now."

"Did you get a new notebook?" He uses his pen to point at the corner of the slam book.

"No. I borrowed it from Alice."

"For what?"

"Have you always been this nosey?"

"Sorry." He frowns and angles his body away fromme, giving me a nice view of his back. Not as nice as when he's wearing his uniform, but it'll do.

We don't speak for the rest of the period, and when the bell rings for lunch, he bolts out the door with his books tucked under his arm.

I take my time gathering my stuff and make a quick stop at my locker before joining Alice in the cafeteria. We go through the line and carry trays with something resembling turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and peas on them. Extremely poor planning on someone's part.

We're all sick of turkey.

"I can't eat this garbage," Alice says. "It's disgusting. This gravy looks like brown Jell-O."

To prove her point, she moves her tray back and forth, and the goo on the potatoes wiggles instead of spilling over.

"Let's cut and go to my house," Jessica says. "It's not like Mrs. Cope will notice if we sneak in late for study hall. She'll be asleep in her office."

Right after she closes her mouth, the door of the cafeteria closest to the parking lot opens, and Edward Masen walks in, pushing a hand through his now damp hair. Jasper's midday smoke must've been rained out.

"No can do," I say, holding my breath through each bite of the tasteless garbage the state of Washington deems acceptable sustenance. "I don't have study hall next. I've got history and then PE."

I don't mention not wanting to leave because Edward just took a seat in the corner of the room. Staying just to have the chance to watch him eat an apple is pathetic and creepy as hell.

"Fine," she says. "I'm going to buy some cookies or a banana. I can't eat this."

I don't care what she eats as long as she stops complaining. It's ruining my spying.

Newton and a few of his other basketball friends join Edward, and they laugh and joke while I watch the way Edward grips that stupid apple. He's too good for turkey and mush, but I've never been close enough to tell what kind of sandwiches he brings from home, only that he brings three of them every day. He alternates between Doritos and Lays chips, and he brings some mysterious brew in a thermos.

People say it's Jack and Coke, but I think that's bullshit. Edward would never risk getting kicked off the team for something stupid like walking around school liquored up.

He doesn't deny it, though, which is enough to make everyone think he just might be that cool.

"Bella," Alice says. "Snap out of it."

"What?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes. "Uh-oh. Eric at 3:00."

"Hey, Bella," Eric says, stopping next to my chair so I'm eye level with the Iron Maiden logo on his t-shirt.

This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted a guy in leather pants. I was thinking Axl Rose.

"Hi, Eric." I give him a weak little smile, because I feel really bad about what's about to go down, but after what happened when he asked me to Homecoming, I'm really not sure why he keeps doing this. It's getting embarrassing. For both of us.

"Are you going to the Snowflake Ball?" He stuffs his hands, or as much of his fingers as he can, into the tiny pockets of his pants.

"No," I tell him. "I've got plans that night. Sorry."

I can't go out with someone who has taller bangs than I do. It's intimidating. He must invest at least an hour every morning teasing it, and God only knows how much he spends on Aqua Net.

Besides, I'm hopeless for the Jake Ryan style a certain basketball player rocks, with the occasional popped collar of a Polo and the Jordans. Edward wears Jordans with everything— jeans, khakis, shorts when he's practicing…

"Ah, cool," Eric says. "Okay."

I turn around in my seat and accidently make eye contact with said basketball player across the room. He stands, tucks his books under his arm, and gathers his trash. Then his eyes find mine again, and for a minute, it feels like this might turn into a Molly flick and he might walk over here.

But then Jasper Whitlock body checks him playfully, turning him around and steering him out the door.

"I left my book in my car," I say, lifting my tray.

Alice stands too. "I'll walk with you," she says.

Man, I _hope _there's a book in my car. She checks her backpack to make sure her umbrella is handy. The rain's stopped for now, but you can never be too careful. Forks is the worst place on the planet for poofed bangs. The only thing worse than looking like a drowned rat is doing it while hairspray is singeing your eyeballs.

The guys are huddled between Edward's Volvo and Jasper's Saab, loud and laughing until they catch sight of us.

Alice's pace quickens to match mine, and we walk past them without a glance. "I think I held my breath from the cafeteria door to here," she whispers when we reach my car. "Stupid basketball players." She makes a face and touches my arm. "No offense. Not you. I mean them."

* * *

**A/N – Wow. Thanks for the warm welcome back, fandom. Y'all really are the best. **

**It seems I must have really hurt some of you guys in the past. Lol. A lot of people expressed concern in reviews. This is romance/humor. I promise. Any and all "trouble" will be the fun kind. ;)**

**I was surprised by how many people had never heard of a slam book. They've been around since the 1920s, possibly earlier but that's the first recorded history of them. In the most basic sense, a slam book is a notebook with an initial sign-in page and then pages of questions that follow. Each person goes through and answers each question. I don't think kids do them anymore because they're too busy spilling everything on social media. The mystery is gone. *sigh* They'll never know the fun they're missing. **

**As always, thanks to Iris, M, and Nic for all the stuff behind the scenes. **

**Thank you for reading and reviewing. See you Saturday! **

**MSC**


	3. Chapter 3 - Hottest Teacher?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 3 - Hottest Teacher at Forks High?**

* * *

PE is a blessing and a curse. It's awesome because Carlisle Cullen is the PE teacher. Seeing his fine ass in shorts and tube socks every day is enough to make suffering through the whining of the prissy girls worth it. Most days.

Today we're playing volleyball, and if Lauren complains about her press-on nails one more time, I'm going to knock her in the back of the head with the ball. It's bad enough we're losing to the boys by an embarrassing margin. Jess and I are the only ones trying.

After the first game ends abysmally, I raise my hand and wait for Coach Cullen to notice me. When he does and calls my name, my face flushes so hot I can feel it in my belly.

_God, he's fine. _

"Can I switch sides?" I ask.

A few of the guys laugh, and some of the girls sputter protests.

"If you switch sides, there wouldn't be much of a game," he answers. "Sorry. After the best two-out-of-three, we'll play co-ed."

_Fair enough, Coach Hottie._

I dodge balls like the rest of my team and don't bother to make any sort of effort. As expected, we go down in flames in record time. Coach keeps his promise and calls us to the center of the gym.

"I need two captains," he says. "Masen and Weber."

Edward gets to choose first, and I expect him to go with Emmett or Jasper, since they're his best friends and kickass jocks. He looks over the crowd once… twice… three times and lets his gaze settle on me. "Bella," he says.

I mouth the words "thank you"when I walk by on my way to the empty space behind him. He winks and smirks at the same time Angela calls out Jessica's name to join to her. And so it goes. Edward picks most of the athletes in the class. Angela picks manicures and penny loafers.

Lambs to the slaughter.

Cullen makes us rotate positions, for experience and "understanding." Edward's on my right and eventually ends up playing outside hitter to my opposite hitter. Between Mike's constant heckling and Edward Masen's view of my ass in these fugly gym shorts, my game is off. It's still good enough to spike on Newton, though, for game point. They're trailing by three.

One minute, Emmett's serving, and the next, I'm on the ground and wondering what the hell just happened.

Edward kneels next to me until Coach Cullen pushes him out of the way. Their faces hover above mine, both concerned and miffed.

"Good one, Newton," Edward says, shaking his head.

"Hey, man, I was just returning the favor," Mike says at my feet.

"Whatever," I say, sitting up on my own. "I'm fine. Tripped over my own feet."

Coach stands and holds out a hand to help me to my feet. "If you want to sit out the rest of the game, I won't hold it against you," he says with a grin.

Ugh. His teeth are as perfect as the rest of his stupid face. And ugh. His hand is _so_ warm.

"Oh, please." Edward rolls his eyes. "Swan crashed harder than that when Hoodsport's captain fouled her in their last game."

Coach Cullen glances at Edward and then at me.

"I'm fine," I say again, dusting off my butt and getting back into position.

Cullen leaves the court, and Jessica serves, clearing the net by a two-inch miracle. Jasper sets it for me, and I jump and nail it. Newton takes it in the chest, just below his neck, then it hits the floor.

"Classy," he says, resting his hands on his hips and glaring.

"So's your mom."

It earns me his middle finger and a dirty look from Jessica. "You could be nicer to him," she says in the locker room while we're changing back into our street clothes.

"Why?" I ask, focused more on my lace-up suede boots than her concern for Mike Newton. "He's been a dick since sixth grade."

She doesn't have a reply, so I leave her once I'm dressed. There are four minutes left in class. It's long enough for me to sit on the bleachers, take out the slam book, and give Coach Cullen's tube socks another glance before scribbling his name as the answer to the "Hottest Teacher at Forks High" question.

Definitely.

"Hey." Edward drops down next to me, and I scramble to close the notebook before he sees it's not notes.

"Hey."

"I was wonder—"

"Bella!"

Edward's head turns, like mine, and Coach Cullen waves me over.

"Gotta go," I say. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing." He leans back against the wooden row behind him and rests his elbows on them. "See you tomorrow."

* * *

**A/N – Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things and to M and Nic for prereading. I keep forgetting to mention this, but thanks to whomever nominated me and my stories in the TwiFic Fandom Awards. Voting is still going on through tomorrow, so make sure to vote for your faves before it's too late. There are so many awesome authors and stories in the running. **

**Thanks for reading. See you in a couple of days. :)**

**MSC **


	4. Chapter 4 - What Do You Do For Fun?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 4 – What Do You Do For Fun?**

* * *

Alice meets me in the parking lot for a lift to work. It only pays minimum wage to run the only roller skating rink in Forks, but the owners are flexible with my basketball schedule. There's no practice today, so we're both on the book from 3:00 to 8:00.

We keep our skates on site in a locker. Rolling isn't a job requirement; it's what we do for fun.

Weeknights are slow enough for us to finish all of our homework in the first couple of hours. Jake Black shows up around 5:00 to fire up the grill for the few couples out on date night. He drops onion rings when he sees me coming.

"Bells," he says.

"Don't call me that." I roll my eyes and skate behind the counter to pour my own glass of Coke.

"Let's go to a movie after work Saturday."

"I'm not working that day."

"When I get off, then." He chuckles at his own little pun.

Before I can answer, there's a loud smack on the counter behind me. Edward is standing on the other side with his palm flat on the Formica surface.

"What can I get you?" Jake asks.

"The cigarette machine is trying to stiff my buddy. The Camels are hung."

"Oh." Jakes thumbs over his shoulder in my direction. "That's her job."

_And he wonders why I won't date him. _

I roll my eyes, take a long pull from my straw, and set my glass on the counter. Edward waits for me to skate through the employee gate and join him on the carpet.

"Hang on a sec," I say, skating past him to the main counter. I have to lean up on my stoppers to reach over and get the straightened coat hanger we use to unclog the cigarette dispenser when packs get stuck.

When I turn around, Edward's head whips up so fast, I'm surprised it's not locked by whiplash. "Sorry," he says.

I'm not sure how to handle the admission. He was checking out my butt. It doesn't gross me out like when Jake does it. Probably because I've looked at Edward's butt, borderline obsessively, for a couple of years since we hit varsity and he filled out his shorts.

"Whatever." I skate past him and give him another view.

Jasper's waiting in the alcove between the men's and ladies' restrooms, leaning against the dimly lit cigarette machine. He grins when I lean over and stick the metal rod into the machine to fish out his smokes.

"Thanks," he says. "Is Alice working?"

"Yeah. She's at the front desk."

They follow me across the room instead of heading for the exit. Their acid-washed jeans from school have been traded for Sonny Crockett pants and matching white jackets. Jasper is sockless in penny loafers, but Edward lives in those Jordan's, no matter the occasion.

I'm almost at the desk when colored lights twist on the walls and Salt-N-Pepa blasts through the speakers.

"I'm taking my break!" I yell when I pass Alice. Seconds later, my skates hit hardwood, and the fun starts. There are only a dozen people on the floor, so it's easy to maneuver around and between them. I stick to the edge of the rink as I skate all the way around.

The song ends, but I've still got time to kill, so I circle back to the concession stand to get my drink and grab my onion rings. Edward and Jasper are still talking to Alice when I take my spot next to her. I open the slam book and balance it on my leg. Hot onion rings are my favorite, so I eat and answer Alice's questions to keep from staring at Edward.

_**What do you do for fun? **__**Push it**_

_**Do you like someone? **__**Yes**_

_**Does he/she know it?**_

I glance up and catch Edward looking right at me. His eyes narrow and lower to the notebook spread on my lap. I reach for my drink to distract him, and it works. He turns away.

_**God, I hope not. **_

* * *

**A/N – I never knew so many people had strong opinions about tube socks. I love y'all. For real. Thanks to Iris for everything, to M and Nic for reading this way back when, and to all of you for reading and reviewing. I'm too sad about Luke Perry to be witty or wordy, so I'll see you soon. **

**MSC **


	5. Chapter 5 - Baseball

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 5 – Baseball**

* * *

My grades are okay, but that doesn't stop Mom and Dad from bugging me the second I walk through the front door at 8:15.

"Is your homework done?" Dad asks.

Mom at least says hello before asking, "How was school?"

"Fine." I answer her first, then Dad. "Yes. All done."

"There's salad in the fridge and stew on the stove," Mom says.

"I had onion rings at work."

"Atta girl." Dad high fives me when I pass his chair on my way to the stairs.

"Bella…"

"I'll be down in a few, Mom. Let me take off my shoes and this sweater and… catch my breath, please."

"Fine."

"And maybe a shower, so my hair can start drying, but I'll come back down. I promise."

She nods and gives my dad the "she's yours"look. And I am—through and through. Mom's a talker and a little hard to deal with after a long day of school drama followed by customers, even cute ones like Edward Masen and Jasper Whitlock. They stayed until they had to leave to meet Jasper's family for his step-sister's birthday dinner at The Lodge.

Rosalie Hale. The owner of Edward Masen's virginity, according to the Forks High rumor mill.

It makes sense, though. She's a track star and a part-time model for Newton's Outdoor Inc., the sporting goods chain Mike's dad has splattered all over the Northwest Peninsula. Her hair is legendary, feathered and curled to perfection 24/7/365.

She's a candy striper at the hospital, president of the honor society, and Miss Forks High class of 1989.

And Edward Masen was invited to her fancy birthday dinner at The Lodge.

Ugh.

If only boys were as easy to wash off as skating rink funk.

I rush through my shower—try, anyway—and answer a couple of questions in the slam book before I keep my promise.

_**Are you single? **__**Yes**_

_**Have you ever…?**_

_**First base?**_ _**Yes. **_

Every single person at Forks High has too, apparently.

_**Second base? **_UGH. _**Yes.**_

The next question isn't hard to guess. I put it off by slipping a robe over my pajamas and heading down to spend some time with my parents.

"How about pizza after your game Wednesday night?" Mom asks.

"Sounds good," I say.

"I asked Mark to cover for me, but you know I can't make any promises," Dad says, flipping between Seahawks football and a Lakers game. There's a smile on his face since both of his teams are winning.

He'll be there if he can. That's how it goes when you have to share your dad with a town of 3,100 people.

Dad's snoring by the time the news is over, and Mom's ready to turn in too.

"Good luck waking him up," I say.

She yawns and laughs. "I'll give him three strikes. If he's out for the night, the recliner will have to do. It won't be the first time."

"'Night, Mom."

"Goodnight."

I leave my overhead light off and switch on the lamp next to my bed instead. The slam book is next to my pillow, waiting for me to go on.

_**Third base? **__**Kind of…**_

Dad came home early one day last summer, and Jason Jenks had to climb out my bedroom window and down the side of our porch to sneak out. That was the last time I was brave—or stupid—enough to even try to mess around with a boy under my police chief dad's roof.

Technically, Jason's hand was in my pants for, like, half a second. I'm still not sure if it counts or not.

_**Homer? **_

The others' answers are evenly split. A few people are vague or witty. They're a no but too embarrassed to admit it. I'm not.

_**Not even close.**_

* * *

**A/N – Once upon a time, a boy named Jason was the first to get to third base with me. Good times. Not the 80s, though. Missed those by a few months. Anyhoo. Hopefully this chapter explains why our sweet, weird Bella is a little clueless when it comes to boys. Heh. **

**Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things and to M and Nic. Thanks to Tarbecca for rec'ing Slammed in the Fic Dive over at A Different Forest. Thank you for reading and reviewing. **

**See you Saturday. **

**MSC**


	6. Chapter 6 - Who Would You Do It With?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 6 – Who Would You Do It With?**

* * *

How? How is that a real question? Alice nabbed that right out of _Sixteen Candles_. Maybe I'll just write in Jake Ryan. I have more of a chance with that fictional hottie than anyone else, except for maybe Eric and his hair.

I sigh and stare at the page until the bell rings.

"Don't forget to dismiss to assembly," Mr. Banner says as we gather our things.

I groan.

"Cheer up, Swan," Edward says. "At least you won't have to take the history test today."

"Was it bad?" I ask, slinging my backpack over my shoulder.

Edward nods and waves for me to go in front of him. "Twice as many essay questions as last time."

"Why does he hate us?" I whine.

He laughs and touches my elbow when we reach the door. "I don't know, but—"

"Edward!" Jasper's voice carries in both directions, echoing through the hall. He bumps Edward's shoulder and pushes him toward the gym. "Let's go, man. I wanna catch a smoke before the pep rally."

"I can't. I…" Edward points to me, but I wave him off.

"It's cool," I say. "Thanks for the heads up." I nod. "I'll study tonight."

They disappear in the crowd of people heading for the gym.

The cheerleaders pass me as I wait for Alice in the hall. Jessica hangs back and brushes her pompom against my arm. "Let's go to Port Angeles this weekend. I need a dress."

"All right," I say. "Is it cool if Alice comes too?"

She nods and walks backward to catch up with her teammates. "Of course."

"Good luck."

Jessica's a few rungs above us on the cool ladder, but we've all been friends since we were little. Between her cheer schedule and our work hours at the rink, we don't get to hang much away from school.

"You're going to chew that bottom lip off someday," Alice says on approach. We walk into the gym and climb the bleachers to the very top so we can lean against the wall.

"Jess wants to go shopping this weekend," I say. "I guess she's going to the Snowflake Ball."

"Yeah… About that…"

"What?"

"I'm going too." She grimaces. "To the dance, I mean."

"What?"

"Tyler asked me during trig."

"What about Jasper?"

"He asked Maria a couple of weeks ago." She shrugs. "Whatever."

"Well, damn. Maybe I should've agreed to go with Eric."

"That ship's sailed," she says, pointing across the court to the opposite set of bleachers. Bree Tanner is curled under Eric's arm in the front row. "He asked her in the hall before school this morning."

I sniff and pout. "How will I survive?"

The gym fills quickly, and I pull the slam book from my backpack and open it to the place I left off. Alice glances over and laughs at the sourness on my lips.

"What kind of bullshit question is this?" I ask.

"Oh, come _on_," she says. "It's _the _obligatory slam book question."

"Fine."

_**Who would you do it with? **__**Axl Rose, Keifer Sutherland, and**_

A loud squeal and thump echo from the speakers at each end of the gym. Coach Cullen steps up to the mic. His socks hug his muscular calves, and his shorts are tighter than ever.

I sigh and contemplate adding Coach Cullen to the list. I've almost settled on burning this thing when I finish anyway, so what do I really have to lose?

Then the boys team walks in, decked out in their track suits, with Edward Masen leading the way. His eyes sweep the room, slow and casual, until they lock with mine. He smirks and lifts two fingers in a wave.

Ugh.

_**#18**_

For real.

* * *

**A/N – Thank you for letting me write something silly and fun. I worked on something heavy for a year. I'm proud of it, but it hurt at times. I needed this.**

**Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things and to M and Nic. **

**See you soon. **

**MSC **


	7. Are You Going to the Snowflake Ball?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 7 – Are You Going to the Snowflake Ball?**

* * *

Rosalie Hale steps forward to block Edward's way long enough to say something in his ear—something that quirks the side of his mouth into a devilish grin. I swallow and turn to the next page of the notebook in my lap.

Alice glances down at it and reaches for the book. "I need to borrow this for a sec." She scratches through her answer, scribbles a new one, and shoves it back in my direction.

I'm probably the only person not going to the stupid dance. Chances are that Rosalie just asked Edward right in front of me. His hand lingers at her waist when he leans in to answer her.

Then he saunters away with his fingers tucked into his jacket pockets.

"What a bunch of shit," Alice says. "Y'all are playing Port Angeles tomorrow. Where's your pep rally?"

I laugh and shake my head. "Yeah, right."

Edward and Jasper take their front-row bleacher seats with the rest of their teammates. Coach Cullen claps and joins them. The principal comes out to sing their praises, sow the seeds of competition, and reap the applause.

_**Are you going to the Snowflake Ball? **_

"Edward Masen is staring at you," Alice says. "Unabashedly."

I glance up from the book and meet his eyes. The corner of his mouth turns up in an easy grin. He leans back, rests his elbows on the bleacher behind him, and stares.

I swallow.

Reread the question.

_**No.**_

* * *

**A/N – Short, I know. Sorry about that. But not really. **

**See y'all soon. Thanks for reading. **

**MSC**


	8. Who Do You Want to Go With?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 8 – Who Do You Want to Go With?**

* * *

I hate the "If you're/If you're not" questions. I'm always the loser who's not. Well, there's Emmett. He's not going either, but he wants to take "your mom_._"

Alice takes the book from me again, scratches through the original question mark next to her number, and scribbles Tyler's name. She returns my pen and stares, waiting for me to answer the question.

_**If you're not going, who do you want to go with?**_

"Don't you dare put a question mark," she says.

"You did."

"Because I didn't want to write 'Anyone, at this point,' okay? I wanted to go with Jasper and got my hopes up. Whatever."

She frowns and stares across the gym at Maria and the other cheerleaders. "It's her legs," she says. "Well, and she's nice and smart, but also those legs. I can't even blame him, you know?"

I bump her shoulder with mine. "You've still got a shot at being Class Reunion Girl. We love stuff like that."

"In books." She laughs, shakes her head, and glances down at the answers scattered across the page. "Who would you rather be?"

I want to be Rosalie Hale and have corny pictures made with Edward Masen. Despite having a snowball's chance in Hell of that becoming a reality, I press the tip of my pen to the paper.

_**Edward Masen.**_

"Oh, my God," Alice says. "I can't believe you wrote that."

Across the room, Edward leans forward in his seat, resting his arms on his thighs and clasping his hands. He stares so long and so hard that he misses his name the first time Coach Cullen says it into the mic.

I stare back.

Jasper elbows Edward and points at Coach and the podium. Edward's eyes widen, and he stands and waves. His cheeks go pink when he sits down, and the next name is called.

"I'm burning this when I finish," I say.

* * *

**A/N – So I know not everyone likes the drabble-ish type short chapters. If it's not your thing, I promise I'll update the story summary with *Complete* once it's finished so you can read it all in one setting if you'd rather. It won't hurt my feelings. I promise. Reading should be fun, not frustrating. In the past, I've written long (12k+) chapters and been wordy as heck, while taking weeks to update. This was an exercise in concise writing for me. Thanks for hanging in there. **

**Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things and to y'all for reading and reviewing. **

**See you in a few days. **

**MSC**


	9. Who's Your Best Friend(s)?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 9 – Who's Your Best Friend(s)?**

* * *

"Oh, no, you're not," Alice says, tugging it away and shoving it into her backpack. "I'll retire it when you're done, but this will make a complete set. I'm keeping them forever as blackmail material in case anyone from our class ever gets famous."

I laugh. "Jesus, I'm glad I'm your BFF. You're evil."

She shrugs. "I prefer conniving."

"Give it back. I won't burn it."

"Swear it."

"Fine," I say. "I swear I won't burn or maim the book."

She hands it over. "You're almost done, anyway."

The cheerleaders take over the floor, so I put it away. After their routine, we're dismissed to lunch. I bring out the book, flip to the end, and then flip it backwards to get to the next question.

_**Who's your best friend(s)?**_

Jessica finds us in the cafeteria and sits across from me. "I'm going to the dance with Mike, okay? I know you can't stand him, but he's cute and nice when he's—"

"Not around other people?" I finish.

She frowns. "I like him."

I sigh. "It's cool. It's not like I'm going."

"You guys can double with us," Alice says.

Edward and Jasper cross the room, both looking everywhere but at our table. Eric and Bree go through the food line together, and Mike waves to Jessica on his way past our table to sit with Edward and most of the boys' basketball team.

Jessica smiles, nods at Alice, and glances down at the pages spread in front of me. "Oh, my God. Is that a slam book?"

"Yes," I say, writing Alice's name and hers before shoving the notebook into my backpack.

"I'm next," she says. The rest of her squad walks toward us, toned legs and bangs for miles. "I've gotta go. You're coming to the game, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it." I stare across the cafeteria at Edward Masen instead of her and watch him wad his brown paper lunch sack and launch it into the garbage can six feet away.

Some of his fangirls clap and chirp. He glances around taking inventory. Our eyes meet long enough to jar us both. Jessica leaves, and the basketball team members follow suit. The rest of us dismiss to class when the bell rings.

Alice heads to study hall, and I climb the stairs at a snail's pace on the way to history. Mr. Dawson waits for the bell to ring, closes the door behind him on his way into the classroom, and takes attendance.

We remind him which kids are on the basketball team, which ones cheer, and which ones are probably cutting class to smoke in the woods beyond the football field. When he's done, he tells us to use our abbreviated class time to start the review guide for the next section.

"Do as much as you can now and finish the rest as homework," he says. "We'll go over them Friday, so you have a few days."

Most of my classmates don't bother, since it's a short class because of the game. I take my book out and find a pen.

Emmett hands his study guide to the cute sophomore sitting across from me and in front of him. She blushes, nods, and sets to work. I roll my eyes, and he grins and shrugs.

"My parents are spending the weekend away at some golf resort outside Seattle," he says to me. "Party at my house. Saturday at 8:00." He's a giant linebacker, the town rich kid, and a professional kegger-thrower. His parties are rare but legendary.

"Maybe," I say. "I'm supposed to go dress shopping with Alice and Jess."

"They're invited too," he says. "Come over when you're done. Everyone will be there." Sophomore girl looks back at him with hope, and he winks. "You're illegal—cute but illegal. Sorry."

Her smile sours, and she shoves his unfinished study guide under his nose. He snatches it and grins. The bell rings, and we file out of the room toward the gym to the game.

The crowds in the hall part, clearing a path for Emmett as he goes, so I tuck in behind him and follow him all the way. We walk in together, but Coach Cullen waves me over.

"See ya," I say to Emmett.

"Later." He points two fingers in a half wave and keeps going.

"Yeah, Coach?" I ask on approach.

"Can you handle the scorebook? Coach Platt is running the scoreboard. You can sit with her next to the team, or you can sit up in the stands."

"Sure." I take the thick book from him and make my way across the court to Coach Platt's table. She flips her long auburn hair over her shoulder, eyes Coach Cullen head to toe, and licks her lips midway through the trip. "Hey, Coach," I say. She blushes and pats the empty chair next to her.

"Hey, Bella. Are you ready for our game tomorrow?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good… Good…"

I watch the boys' team walk in, shed their windbreakers, and loosen up. She stares at Coach Cullen's backside until tip-off.

Edward steps into the jump circle, facing off against a guy his height and build but not nearly as fine. The ref gives them a word or two, nods, and throws the ball into the air. Both boys push off the ground, reaching for the sky, and it's Edward's slender fingers that make purchase.

Jasper transforms from goofball to menace, takes possession, and the ball is in play.

* * *

**A/N – Technically, it's Saturday. Blame the dead of night posting on Silky O'Sullivan's St. Patrick's Day Parade. If you read **_**Rest My Soul**_**, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I'll be spending the daylight hours in Memphis – on Beale – eating and drinking too much. Probably. **

**Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things and to y'all for reading and reviewing. **

**See you soon. **

**MSC**


	10. What Are Your Plans After Graduation?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 10 – What Are Your Plans After Graduation?**

* * *

The guys run the game, with Edward and Jasper moving the ball between them in a blur. I fill in columns and stats, reveling in the valid excuse to stalk Edward Masen's every move. His muscled calves and curved fingers are on constant display.

He catches me staring—twice—in the few moments he's out and resting on the bench. He scores seventeen points, and his rebound game is on fire. My mouth goes dry when he steals the ball a few feet away from the table and winks at me in the process.

I swallow.

Edward Masen is flirting with me. My mouth drops open, but he's gone in a blink, laying down another assist. I squirm in my seat, tugging the material of my jacket against my neck to cover my flush.

Watching him play is my porn.

Coach Platt glows with pride and points into the stands across from us. "See that guy in the white Polo?" she asks. "That's the head of UW's athletic department, and the guy next to him is the men's coach."

"Wow," I say. "Are they here for Edward?"

A slow smile spreads on her lips. "There are several prospects. They'll be at our game tomorrow, too, along with the ladies' coaches."

My mind goes blank, the boys forgotten. "Seriously?"

She nods, and my stomach turns. "Relax," she says. "It's yours to lose at this point."

I'm dazed through the rest of the game, swallowing nerves and trying to focus on the task at hand. The end isn't pretty for our visitors. 36-22 is a beating, but they shake hands and leave with their heads held high.

I linger at the score table after handing over the records book, pull the slam book from my bag, and find the next question.

_**What are your plans after graduation?**_

_**College and basketball… I hope.**_

* * *

**A/N – Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things and to y'all for reading and reviewing. Y'all are fun, and I love you. **


	11. What Are You Good At?

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 11 – What Are You Good At?**

* * *

"Good game yesterday," I say to Edward before he even has time to unzip his backpack.

"Freeze, people," Banner says at the front of the classroom. Every head turns. "You don't need your books. We're watching a film." He pushes a VHS cassette into the player on the cart with the television at the front of the room.

Edward drops his backpack on the ground. I put mine on the lab table and rest my crossed arms on it. Our stools are positioned so close that our thighs brush under the table.

"Sorry." Edward leans away and stares straight ahead through the entire protein synthesis cartoon.

His cologne is a light compliment to his natural soap and Gain combination. My eyes slip closed long enough for me to become disoriented enough to almost fall off my stool when I jerk awake. Edward's arm shoots out to steady me, and I whisper my thanks and face forward.

When the credits roll, Mr. Banner flips the lights back on, and all of us blink and stretch. I take a tube of strawberry lip gloss from my pencil bag. Edward watches the roll-on ball glide across my lips, and I smack them together when I'm done.

He blinks. "Uh… Bella?"

"Yeah?"

He exhales, grimaces, and rubs the back of his neck. "Would you…? I'm going to be in Seattle for the next couple of days to tour the UW campus. Can I copy your notes when I get back?"

"Oh, wow. That was fast."

"What?" His eyebrows crinkle. "My mom set this up weeks ago. We're leaving this afternoon."

"Oh," I say again.

"After the game, of course." He grins and slings his backpack over his shoulder. "Good luck."

I trudge to the cafeteria, follow Alice and Jessica through the lunch line, and ignore my food to finish the slam book instead.

The next few questions are generic.

_**What do you want to be when you "grow up?"**_

_**No clue.**_

_**Where do you want to live?**_

_**In the desert or somewhere it doesn't rain every other stupid day**_

_**Who do you admire?**_

_**Senda Berenson and Michael Jordan.**_

_**What are you good at?**_

_**Basketball.**_

I scribble my signature on the sign-out page, close the book, and push it across the table to Jessica. I keep my hand on it when she tries to take it.

"Retire it when you're done," I say. "Cross your heart."

She looks at me, Alice, and then down at the silly evil book between us. "Fine," she says, slashing her pointer finger in an X over her chest. "Cross my heart." She flips through the pages without even looking at them, and I consider taking it back from her.

* * *

**A/N – Happy hump day. I have to work Saturday, which super duper sucks. I'll still post, but it will likely be later in the day. I'm sorry in advance. **

**Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things. And for other, secret, things y'all don't know about. Yet. **

**See you this weekend. **

**MSC**


	12. The Game

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 12 - The Game**

* * *

My backpack isn't any lighter after shedding the slam book I've been toting around for days. I glance back at Jessica on my way out of the cafeteria and find her already hunched over its pages, pen in hand.

I take a deep breath and keep walking.

My afternoon teachers already have assignment packets organized for me when I get to their classrooms, so I head for the gym. Most of my teammates have already changed into gold jerseys and navy shorts.

"Ready?" Bree asks, wrapping a band over and over around the ponytail in her hand.

"I hope so."

She waits patiently while I change into my uniform, braid my hair, and say a silent prayer for my bangs.

Coach meets us at the locker room door. "Take a couple of laps, then run crossovers."

We do as we're told and then spend some time stretching and watching the gym slowly fill with people. Edward wanders in with Jasper and Emmett but doesn't follow them up the bleachers.

Neither of my parents has shown up, and we're less than five minutes from tip-off. Edward takes a spot next to Coach Hottie at the announcer's table, taps his thumb against the controls for the scoreboard, and glances at his watch.

Mom rushes in and crosses the gym to sit on our side as our opponents unzip their green windbreakers. Bree stands, touches her toes, and tosses her headphones and cassette deck onto our bench.

"Let's do this," she says, holding a fist at arm's length.

We each put a hand in, break apart, and spread out on the court.

Bree's shorter than the Port Angeles team captain, but she has more spring and tips the ball to Irina, who passes it to me for the first two of the game.

"That was beautiful!" Coach hollers. "Don't let up!"

The first half is a clean game. The second starts with a nasty foul that lands me on my ass. I nail both of my free throws, advancing our lead to 13-7.

I try not to look for Dad in the crowd, even though I can now hear his voice mingled with Mom's. I'm terrible when I play like someone's watching me, so I keep my eyes on the court and my teammates.

At the final buzzer, we're leading by fifteen. Not bad at all.

I wipe the sweat from my face and chest with a towel before searching for my parents. Edward blocks me in the chaos, leans in way too close for the way I smell, and says, "Good game, Swan. Are you going to Emmett's party Saturday night?"

"Should I?" I ask.

He grins and nods slowly. "Yeah," he says. "You should."

* * *

**A/N – Ack! Better late than never, I hope. Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things. And to y'all. I *heart* you. **

**MSC**


	13. A Miss

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 13 – A Miss**

* * *

As much as I hate to admit it, chemistry class just isn't the same without Edward Masen. I tell myself it's because of the two-part lab he misses both days. I have to do all the work myself. Usually, our fingers at least brush at some point when we're working together.

And it's the only time it's easy for me to talk to him. Lifelong crushes are crippling.

When you add his coolness and top-rung status, being in his orbit has always been good enough. Something changed over break. This week has been different.

I clean up our station on Friday and try not to stare at his empty stool.

Alice and I wait for Jessica longer than normal at the doors to the cafeteria. Eventually, we give up and hit the lunch line. She gets tater tots and an ice cream sandwich. I get a salad and a slice of pizza.

Midway through the period, Jessica trudges to our table, lowers her backpack to the ground, and drops onto a seat across from us.

"You're going to kill me," she says.

I shake my head and chew pepperoni.

"I finished the slam book this morning." She shakes her head, and I swallow. "It was in my backpack. I know it."

"_Was_?" I ask.

"I had to deliver some papers for Ms. Cope, so I left my stuff at the table right outside the guidance office. I got back, did my English assignment, and went to calc. That's when I noticed it was gone."

"You lost my senior slam book?" Alice asks.

Jessica crosses her arms on the table and drops her forehead to touch them. "Yes," she mumbles.

"Oh, no," I say. "Oh no oh no oh no."

Jessica looks up. "I know. I'm sooooo sorry, Bella." She perks up a bit and smiles. "It's so cute that you finally admitted you like Edward Masen."

"Half of the school likes Edward Masen," I say. "Ugh."

"Well, yeah." She nods. "But you've, like, always _liked_ him liked him."

"Thank God he's out of town." I shake my head. "We have to find that book. We have to. Who else was in the office this morning?"

She purses her lips and shakes her head. "Besides Ms. Cope and the regulars? No one."

"The regulars?" Alice asks.

"Angela and Ben volunteer first period, too, but they were busy writing out tardy notes, and both of them had already signed it, anyway."

"Can you get the list?" I ask. "Of the people who were late? Maybe one of them took it."

"Maybe," she says. "Let me see what I can do."

* * *

**A/N – Jessica is not a bad guy. I promise. **

**Thanks to Iris for cleaning this up and to y'all for reading and reviewing. Thank you to everyone who voted in the TwiFic Fandom Awards. Your continued love for Down Home always chokes me up. I appreciate it so much. Love y'all. **

**See you soon. **

**MSC **


	14. Defense

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 14 – Defense **

* * *

We discuss the list during the Saturday morning drive to Port Angeles. No one we know was late Friday morning. The suspects are all juniors, which has Jessica out for blood by the time we get there.

"I swear, if some baby junior had the nads to steal something right out of my backpack, I'll lose my shit," Jessica says, tugging a lavender gown up to cup her boobs. Alice zips her up, and Jessica turns again and again to catch every angle of the dress in the floor-length mirrors.

"No respect," Alice agrees. "Bella?" I step forward and tug the zipper of her dress up until it rests at her hairline. It's strapless and black, fitted at the top with layers of Madonna and tulle from the waist down. "I love this," she says, spinning once on her toes. "It's perfect."

"It is." I sigh and glance at a pretty blue dress on a mannequin a few feet away. The top is black crushed velvet, and the satin skirt pillows as midnight as the sky.

"Try it on," Jessica says.

I take one in my size from the rack and hustle out of my clothes in the dressing room. It takes some maneuvering to keep my bangs untouched. Getting the dress on is harder, and I have to call for help.

Alice slips into the room and lifts the material over my head while I aim and pray. We step out into the store so Jessica can see it and I can get the multi-mirrored view.

It looks better than any dress has ever looked on me, which is salt in the wound.

"I should've said yes to Eric," I say.

"Come with us," Alice says. "I'm sure Tyler or Mike can get a friend to double."

"I am _not _letting Mike Newton set me up on a date. No way."

Jessica pouts. "But that dress is perfect."

They pay for their dresses, and I hang mine back on the rack. We stop at a bookstore to load up on magazines. None of us is in the mood for fast food, so we have Italian by candlelight and catch up on all the school gossip and move on to the rest of the town's.

The drive back to Forks is predictably boring, just like the town. The parking lot of the diner is full, but it's easy to spot Dad's squad car and Mom's Maxima parked right next to it.

Emmett's street is lined with cars already. Jessica makes the block and parks at the corner. We pull out compacts and check our cheeks and gloss. Alice pulls a bottle of Electric Youth perfume from her purse, sprays her wrists, and then rubs her wrists with ours to pass it on.

We get out of Jessica's car, lock elbows, and follow the sound of speakers thumping in the distance. A small crowd is gathered at the edge of Emmett's driveway. Jasper and Mike are shirtless and circling each other beneath the basketball goal next to the house. Jasper dribbles a ball between them, taunting and easy. Emmett slides in behind Mike, but Edward blocks him. They're down to t-shirts, and when Edward lifts his to wipe his face, my nipples tighten with my thighs.

I lick my lips and cross my arms.

Jasper steals and tosses the ball to Edward, and Edward ducks out of Emmett's reach and jumps for two. He catches me staring and winks.

My mouth drops open.

"Miss me, Swan?" he asks, tugging the hem of his shirt again to tease me with those abs.

I swallow. "No. Of course not."

He grins. "That hurts."

"I doubt it."

"Dude!" Jasper yells in his face. "Get your head in the game."

But it's too late. Mike scores.

Edward and Jasper are the victors in the end. They all slap hands and walk away on good terms since it was all for fun.

Alice and Jessica ditch me the second Edward Masen heads our way. He stops in front of me and nods at the house. "Come with me."

* * *

**A/N – Most of y'all forgave Jessica right away. Some of you are even excited that the book's gone missing. This is why I love y'all. **

**Thanks to Iris for fixing all the things. She requested a little something for her birthday, and I'm happy to report that I finished it last night. We'll have more goodies for you in a couple of weeks. Until then, see you Saturday with these goofballs. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. **

**MSC **


	15. She Scores

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 15 – She Scores**

* * *

I follow Edward into the house and through a dark living room that's just as crowded as the driveway outside. There are couples everywhere.

Thankfully, Edward keeps going until we get to the kitchen. "Want a beer?" he asks. I nod, and he grabs two bottles from the cooler and uses his free hand to open a door next to the stove. He tilts his head and waves me over. A steep set of wooden stairs leads down to a room I had no idea existed.

Edward closes the door behind us and lifts the hand with the beers to use his pointer finger to cover his lips. "Shhh," he says. "This is usually off limits during parties, but I want to catch the end of the Bulls game. Cool?"

I nod and stare at the ugly brown couch, which becomes more and more loveseat-sized the closer I get to it. Edward walks over to the television, turns it on, and adjusts the cable box to the right channel. There are five minutes left in the fourth quarter, and the Bulls are up by four.

Edwards sits and twists the cap from the first bottle of beer. He holds it out to me. "Want to sit down?"

I take the last few steps and sit next to him. We sip beer and watch the game in silence while the party thumps above us. He shifts, and the heat of him burns me through his jeans and mine when our thighs touch.

He plucks the beer bottle from my hand, sets it on the table, and then covers me with his body before I can even process what's happening. His soft lips hover, a breath away from mine, and he whispers, "I want to kiss you."

"Do it."

I lied. I lied in that slam book when I said I'd been kissed before, because nothing before this counts anymore. Edward's lips brush mine, softer than a feather, then pressed and parting. I shift in discomfort. His tongue slips into my mouth at the same moment he scoops my legs onto the couch beneath him. His hips dig into mine, and I scoot, desperate for anything to curb the fire curling low in my belly.

A soft moan escapes him and rumbles against my chest. He sucks and nibbles my bottom lip and grinds. I rock and gasp, eyes and thighs clenched in ecstasy.

"Fuck," Edward whispers, grinding and panting. "Did you just come?" He stills and groans seconds later before I can even catch my breath to answer.

I think so.

"Mmmmm," is all I can manage.

His breath is cool on my neck. Then he rises on his elbow and runs a finger across my bottom lip. "That was—"

The door at the top of the stairs opens, and Emmett calls down a warning. "I don't want to see any dicks. Am I clear?"

Edward growls, and I giggle. Then mortification sets in.

We just dry humped on Emmett's couch, and everyone's going to know it in a matter of seconds.

* * *

**A/N – Oops. Busted. **

**Thanks to Iris for cleaning this up and to y'all for reading and reviewing. I'm glad this is fun for y'all. That was the plan. **

**See you soon. xo**

**MSC**


	16. Foul

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 16 – Foul**

* * *

Instinct kicks in. I shove Edward's chest and roll at the same time, effectively dumping him on the floor. The back of his head whacks the coffee table on the way down.

"Fuck," he says.

"Holy shit." Emmett claps his hands together and smiles. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

"Nothing." I sit up and run my fingers through the back of my hair, combing the tiny friction knots.

Edward frowns.

"We're just watching the game," I say.

"Who won?" Emmett crosses his arms and smirks.

"Um…" I glance at the television. A preview for this week's _20/20_ is no help.

"That's what I thought." He laughs and waves a hand to dismiss my blazing hot cheeks. "I'll just be a second," he says, making his way over to a built-in bar in the corner of the room.

"I'm just going to… go." I stand and make a break for the stairs. I was wrong. Mortification doesn't even begin to cover this.

"Bella," Edward calls from behind me.

I keep going and don't stop to look back. His voice follows me up and out and into the crowd of kids bumping and grinding all over Emmett's house. I spot Alice in a ferocious lip lock with Tyler on my way through the kitchen.

There's no sign of Jessica, and it's probably not a coincidence that Mike is nowhere in sight, either.

"Dammit," I mutter on my way out the front door.

My house is only a few blocks from here, and mercifully, it's not raining for once. I hit the steps and power walk across the yard.

Edward's fingers close on my arm before I make it to the street.

"Jesus, Swan." He pulls me to a stop and leans down to catch my eye. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I thought you were into it. God, I'm sorry."

"It was definitely two-way humping, Edward," I say. "Relax."

"Then why are you freaking out?"

"We're barely friends, and we just got each other off in Emmett's basement. Excuse me if I'm a little overwhelmed."

"I overwhelmed you." He grins and nods in satisfaction.

"Shut up."

"At least let me give you a ride," he says. "I need to go home and change." He waves to his crotch, and my cheeks burn.

"Okay."

James and Victoria pass us at the end of the driveway.

"Hey," I say. "Can you tell Alice or Jessica that Edward's giving me a ride home?"

Victoria nods and waves. "Will do."

Edward leads the way to his car and stops to unlock the passenger side first. He opens the car door and waits for me to get in. I lean over and unlock his door from the inside before he makes it to his side of the car.

"Thanks," he says.

We ride in silence until he turns from Emmett's street toward mine. "It's on 6th."

"I know where you live, Bella. Your dad's the chief of police."

"Oh. Right." I stare out the car window to hide my smile. "How was UW?"

His smile widens, and he glances over at me. "Productive."

"Did you sign?"

He focuses on the road again and nods. "Yes and no. It won't be official until they come to Forks and do a signing at the school. You know how it goes."

"Right."

"What about you?"

"Nothing official, yet. The women's coach asked to come by to talk to my parents sometime next week. I hope I can get a scholarship."

"You will," he says. "Your stats are in Washington's top five. Statewide, Bella. You've been on fire this year. Tons of mentions in the paper. That's the stuff they want."

"Hope so."

He pulls to a stop in front of my house and puts the car in park but leaves it running. Before I can open my door, he reaches into the backseat and pulls out Alice's slam book.

"Of course," I say, shaking my head. "It all makes sense now."

"What?"

"The humping." I open the car door and get out.

"Bella." Edward drops the book on my seat and scrambles to get out and catch up with me. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the map I practically drew to my vagina for you in that book."

He stops short and stares at me. "That's not—"

"Forget it," I say. "Whatever."

I rush up the porch steps, open the front door, and blow past my parents and up the stairs to my room. I leave the light off and cross the room to my window. Edward's car is still idling on the street in front of our house.

Five minutes pass. He pulls away from the curb, and the glow of his taillights burn a trail down the center of the street.

* * *

**A/N – Repeat after me: Nan promised that this is not an angsty story. This is not an angsty story. **

**Thanks to Iris for cleaning this up and to y'all for reading and reviewing. See you in a couple of days. **

**MSC**


	17. Rebound

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

**Chapter 17 - Rebound**

* * *

"Bella!" Mom calls up the stairs. "Telephone!"

"Who is it?" I yell back.

"It's a boy!"

"Tell him I'm dead!"

"That's not funny!" Dad chimes in.

"I'm not taking any calls today!" I shout back. "I don't care what you tell him!"

A few minutes later, there's a knock on my door. Mom pushes it open and stops to inspect me. "Want to talk about it?"

I cover my head with my pillow and groan. I feel her weight on the bed next to me a moment before she pulls the pillow away and flings it across the room.

"I did something stupid," I say, keeping my eyes closed to minimize my embarrassment.

"How stupid?" she asks.

"No, not that," I say. Her relief is immediate. "Definitely not that."

"Honey, your dad and I dated in the 60s. We're the last to judge."

"Ew. Stop. Seriously. Everything's still intact."

"Okay, well, what's going on with Edward Masen? And why has he called three times this morning?"

"Ugh. Because I kissed him last night." Technically, it was a lot more than just kissing, but only spit was officially swapped. Less is more with Mom, anyway.

"He was that bad?" She frowns.

"No, he was _that _good. I mean, you've seen him. And he's smart and really, really good at basketball. He's Edward Masen, Mr. Forks High."

"Okay… And why are you not taking his calls?"

I explain slam books and tell her all about my Edward-centric answers and how he somehow saw all of them. She listens and winces in all the right places and sighs occasionally. I skip over the orgasms part of the story because it's Mom. Those are Alice and Jessica details.

"Well, you'd better figure something out before tomorrow," she says. "You'll see him in chemistry, ready or not."

"Can't you just homeschool me for the rest of the year?" I beg.

She laughs. "A class of twenty kindergarteners is all I can handle. You're going to school tomorrow. This will all blow over."

I groan again and reach for my pillow.

Edward gives up after his fourth try. I spend the rest of my Sunday finishing homework and studying. I fight sleep as long as possible and then dream about setting fire to Alice's slam book in one of the sinks in Banner's classroom. I wake up seconds before the water from the school's sprinkler system hits me.

I wake up late, get to school at the last minute, and dart through the halls between classes to minimize my chances of running into Edward. In my haste, I barrel full speed into Emmett McCarty in front of the main office.

"Oof!" he says, straightening after the initial blow. "Damn, Swan."

"Sorry."

My luck runs out third period when it's time for chemistry. Edward's already seated, and Alice's slam book sits on our lab table in front of my chair.

Bastard.

I glare at him and cross the room. I push the slam book to his side of the surface. "How did you get it?"

He stares at the notes already scribbled on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. "Jasper gave it to me when he finished."

Jasper wasn't on Jessica's list of suspects. "How did he get it?"

"I don't know."

Mr. Banner clears his throat, flips open his book, and tells us what page to turn to for today's lesson.

"I can't believe you read it," I whisper. "That was private."

Before he can argue, Banner clears his throat again and stops to stare at us. We lean away from each other and take notes with the rest of the class. I have my stuff packed and shoot off my stool the moment the bells rings.

Edward's quicker. He matches my steps and holds the slam book out between us. "It's a slam book. It's not like I read your diary, Swan."

"You may as well have." I make a sharp turn into a girls' bathroom and wait in there long after the bell rings.

The hall's empty when I walk out, and I make my way to the cafeteria to find Alice and Jessica to fill them in on everything. Or kill Jasper Whitlock. Whichever comes first.

The girls look surprised to see me.

"Were you and Edward fighting in the hall?" Jessica asks.

"No." I drop my backpack to the floor. "Why?"

"Well, that's what everyone was saying…" Alice trails off, focused on something across the room.

I turn in my seat to find Edward clutching that damn slam book and headed right for us. There's nowhere to go and no way to stop what's coming, so I brace for it.

He stops a foot away from me, tosses the notebook on the table, and says, "Read it. Then we're even."

* * *

**A/N – What kind of teen romance would this be without a grand gesture in the school cafeteria? **

**Thanks to Iris for all the things and to y'all for reading and reviewing. See you Saturday. **

**MSC**


	18. Slammed

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 18 – Slammed **

* * *

The slap of the notebook on the plastic table echoes throughout the cafeteria, despite Edward's words being soft enough for only me to hear them.

Every fork freezes in mid-air. Every head turns.

Because he's Edward freaking Masen. He slips his hands into his pockets and saunters away and out the door. Then every eye is back on me.

"Well," Jessica says. "What are you waiting for?"

"Seriously," Alice agrees.

I open the book and find his bright blue scrawl. Clear, concise handwriting? Check.

**24\. Edward Masen #18**

"His cursive is really nice for a guy," Jessica says. "Most of them just scribble and swish."

"24… That's your jersey number," Alice says.

As if I hadn't already noticed.

I glance at his favorite bands and turn page after page. The "hottest teacher"page stands out because his bright blue writing is practically on top of my response.

Seeing Coach Platt's name stokes something, and my mouth twists.

"Don't even act like you haven't flicked your bean to Coach Cullen, Bella. I will call bullshit so fast." Jessica shakes her head.

"I know," I say.

She turns a few pages and stops at _**Do you like someone?**_

Edward's bright blue "yes" is in all capital letters.

"Duh," Alice says. "Turn the page."

_**Does he/she know it?**_

_**24\. Apparently not**_

"Oh, my God," Alice says.

I keep turning and trip through Edward's baseball section. He's done it all. No surprise there.

A dozen bright blue question marks have been drawn around my third base answer.

Jessica squeals a second after she's turned the page. "Holy shit, Bella."

_**Who would you do it with?**_

_**24\. Bella Swan**_

I close the book but hold my place with my thumb wedged between the pages. I look around the cafeteria slowly, but there's no sign of Edward.

"Keep going," Alice says. "For the love of God, keep going."

I open it again.

_**Are you going to the Snowflake Ball?**_

_**24\. Hope so**_

Jessica turns the page so fast it tears the air.

_**Who do you want to go with?**_

_**24\. Bella Swan**_

"Wow," Jessica says.

"Pretty sure he likes you, Bella." Alice eases the slam book from my hands.

"Yeah," I say, swallowing guilt and finally letting myself remember the sweet way he kissed me before things had gotten out of hand the other night. "Maybe he does."

We share the food on their trays and then leave the cafeteria together. "What are you going to say to him in PE?" Jessica asks.

I grip my backpack strap and shrug. "I don't know. I'll figure it out during history, I guess."

We get to the top of the stairs, and Alice laughs. "Yeah," she says. "Good luck with that."

Edward's parked right outside the door to my history class, leaning casually against the wall with his hands in his jacket pockets and his backpack at his feet. He glances up at the sound of Alice's laughter and keeps his eyes locked with mine.

* * *

**A/N – Awww. He likes her. **

**Thanks to Iris for cleaning this up. I messed with it some, after she was done, so any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading and reviewing. See you soon. **

**MSC**


	19. A Win

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight. **

**Chapter 19 – A Win**

* * *

"See you in the gym, Bella," Jessica says, tugging Alice away with her.

I nod and take a deep breath. "Wish me luck," I mutter.

Edward doesn't move as I approach. He lets me decide. I stop in front of him and stare down at his Jordans.

"Did you mean that stuff?"

He leans down to catch my eye. "Yes," he says. "I mean it. I've been trying to figure out a way to ask you to the dance for a month. Well, maybe not that long, but a while, for sure."

"Yes," I say, finally looking up at him.

"Yeah?" He pushes away from the wall and steps forward into my personal space. His hands grip my waist and pull me forward until our chests are touching.

"Yeah."

He kisses me, smiling and hugging me, right here—in the middle of the hall—with everyone watching.

"Get a room," Emmett says, passing us on his way into our class.

The warning bell causes both of us to jump. Edward takes a step back and lets a lock of my hair slip through his fingers as he goes.

I shiver and cross my arms.

He stops in his tracks and lets his varsity jacket slip from his shoulders. "Here," he says. "I'll get it in PE."

I take the jacket, and he steals one last kiss before sprinting down the hall. Mr. Dawson steps out of the classroom and looks around. "Are you joining us today, Bella?"

I run my fingers over the leather and fleece on the way to my desk. Hints of Edward's cologne tease and tempt, so I stop to put the jacket on before I sit.

Emmett busts me smelling the lining and laughs.

"Shut up," I say. "Don't you dare tell him I was sniffing his jacket."

"You know I will." He leans forward, tipping his desk to get closer and holds the slam book in the air between us. "Alice stopped me in the hall and asked me to give this to you. She said you might want to change a few of your answers."

I take it and smile.

She's right.

And she's never getting it back.

* * *

**A/N – And **_**that **_**is how she got her man. Or how he got his girl. I guess it depends on how you look at it. This is the natural place to end this story. **

**Some of y'all are thinking: WHERE IS OUR M RATING?**

**That's what lengthy, almost finished epilogues are for. So, I'll see you again here, soon-ish. **

**For those of you who read The Give Away Girl… Iris planted a little plot bunny and found a way for me to share a new angle with y'all. All 4 parts will post Wednesday (on Iris' birthday – be sure to wish her a happy one!), so you may want to put me on author alert if you're interested. **

**Thank you for reading and reviewing this story. When I first started writing fic, my kids were in elementary school. Next month, my son has prom and graduation. I needed to write something sweet and happy. Something that would make me smile. I sincerely hope it made you smile, too. **

**MSC**


	20. Epilogue: Dance Hall Days

**Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.**

* * *

"That's eight," I tell him, huffing and puffing, because Edward doesn't give me any breaks just because I'm his girl.

He tsks me, then steals the ball. He jumps, shoots, and scores. "Eight."

I narrow my eyes. A whistle blows three times behind me. Edward grins and tucks the ball under his arm.

"Time to go, Edward," Mom says from the porch. "We're on a strict schedule if you're still planning to pick Bella up at 5:00."

Edward nods and tosses the ball to me. "Thanks, Renee." He walks over and rests his hands on my hips while I hold the ball between our chests. "I'll see you in a few hours." He leans forward to brush his lips over mine, sweat be damned.

"Okay."

We watch him until his car disappears at the corner, then Mom glances at her watch. "Tick tock," she says. "Shower. Now."

I catch a whiff of myself and agree. "Okay, okay. I'm going."

Herbal Essence and hot water wash away the dirt and sweat from my time with Edward. I brush my teeth in the shower and shave everything applicable, just in case.

I'm not really spending the night with Jessica after the dance later, and I'm pretty sure Mom knows it, but we've had the talk more times than I care to admit, so she trusts me.

Not that tonight is for sure going to be _the _night, but if I have my way, it will be. Edward keeps throwing around the words "too soon." I disagree wholeheartedly.

Either way, I'm spending the night with him, so something's going to happen. Bases will be crossed.

I towel my hair as dry as possible, dry my skin, and spray a light dusting of Baby Soft across my chest before exiting the bathroom in nothing but underwear and a robe. Mom's waiting on my bed, surrounded by an array of hair products and makeup. "Curlers first," she says, pointing to the chair in front of the vanity across the room.

I sit and pick up an old issue of _Seventeen_ to pass the time as she tugs, pulls, and wraps my hair in plastic rollers. She makes small talk around the bobby pins between her teeth.

"Do you know where Edward's taking you for dinner?" she asks.

"No clue," I say. "He said we're going to Port Angeles. That's all I know."

"That's sweet."

I look up and smile at her reflection in the mirror. "He's…" I shrug eventually, because I don't know how to explain it. Hot and smug and sweet and obsessed with me sounds crazy, but it's true.

She smiles again. "Ah. Young love." She clips the last roller in place and drops her hands to my shoulders. "Press-on or polished?"

"Polished."

We decide on a deep, cranberry-tinted red. It looks good next to the dress I picked out with Jessica and Alice almost a month ago. Mom painstakingly paints each nail, waits for them to dry, and repeats the process. I stay in the robe until it's time to do my hair. She blow dries my head for a solid ten minutes to be sure, then sprays a light round of Aqua Net to hold the curls.

"Okay," she says, holding up the dress. "Be careful." She maneuvers it over my head and down my body without knocking a single roller out of place.

I grimace a few times as she works her magic. She uses a round brush to raise my bangs and style them back from my face, high but straight and pulled back. She twists the curled strands into a loose half bun and reuses the bobby pins to hold it in place. Once the top is finished, she uses her fingers to comb through the rest of my hair and sprays the large, loose curls with another and heavier layer of hairspray.

It takes the full five hours she'd scheduled, and the doorbell rings downstairs as I'm stepping into the black lace-up velvet heels Mom found at the mall in Port Angeles. I stand perfectly still while she crisscrosses the satin laces and ties them just behind my knees.

Mom's eyes water. "Wait!" She rushes over to the Caboodle on the bed, digs around in the contents, and holds up eyeliner and a tube of mascara. The liner is pitch black, but the mascara has tints of deep blue that match the midnight hues of my skirt. "Perfect," she says when she's done applying it. "Mr. Forks High isn't going to know what hit him."

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and exhale. "Okay. Let's go."

She leads the way downstairs, but I stay close in case I go down in these heels. I've got Chuck Taylors packed for the moment we're finished with pictures. Dad's wearing that stupid whistle around his neck and casually holding a beer as he chats with Edward about a fish he caught last week on the res. He stops mid-sentence, and both of them stare at me.

Edward recovers first. "You look beautiful, Swan."

Mom and I grin from ear to ear.

Dad coughs and toys with the whistle. "Wow," he says. "You look so grown up."

"Thanks, Dad."

Edward takes a step forward and shoves a clear, plastic box between us. "I got this for you," he says. The black suit he's wearing is fitted, and the crisp white dress shirt is a stark contrast to his shiny midnight blue tie. It matches my dress and the ribbon on the corsage he's holding.

"It's lovely," Mom says. She reaches for the boutonniere she picked up this morning and hands it over.

"It really is perfect," I say, leaning in close to whisper the words against Edward's ear as he slides the elastic band over my hand and onto my wrist. I lean forward and kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

He swallows and stares at my lips. "You're welcome."

"Don't make me blow this whistle, kids." Dad shakes his head and settles on the couch with the remote.

The rest of us laugh while I pin the matching white rose on Edward's jacket. Dad got the whistle because Edward and I have a bad habit of getting… physical when we play. He blows that silly thing every time we get too handsy or drop the ball entirely to make out behind the shed.

Neither of us is fond of the whistle.

"Ready?" Edward asks.

I nod, but Mom holds up a hand. "Wait! I need to get pictures. I promised Beth I'd have copies made for her, too."

Edward slips his arm around my waist and pulls me close. After a few flashes of light, he turns me and steps up behind me for a fresh pose. We grin and lock fingers, and even now it's a little bit hard to believe this is really real.

Edward Masen is my boyfriend. And my friend friend. And we're going to the Snowflake Ball together.

And then to UW next year on matching scholarships.

Beth is thrilled. Mom's thrilled. Dad wears that silly whistle every time Edward comes over, but he likes him well enough. Edward watches games with us on the few nights a week Dad's home for dinner. Other nights, we study together at his house while his mom reads or writes by the fire.

We both have outdoor hoops, but Edward's got an indoor arcade-style double hoop basketball game. We spend as much time working it as we do each other. Edward's mom doesn't have a whistle. Beth writes excellent bestselling bodice-rippers, spends most of her time barefoot, and lets Edward do his own thing as long as he stays out of trouble.

She flew to Anchorage for a book signing this morning and won't be back until Monday.

"There," Mom says. "I used the whole roll of film. You two have a good time."

"Be careful," Dad adds, waving us out the door.

Edward pauses at the Volvo, steps forward, and traces my jaw with his finger. "You look so pretty, Bella." He tilts my face to kiss me sweetly on the lips, with gentle pecks and a hint of tongue.

I sigh when he shifts his attention to my neck. "So do you."

I feel his smile on my skin. "We have to go," he says. "Our reservations are for 6:00."

"Where?"

"Nope," he says, shaking his head and moving to open the passenger door of his car for me. "Nice try, though."

He drives to the city limit and keeps going toward Port Angeles. He slows a few miles shy of the halfway mark and turns onto a dirt drive between two cast iron posts with lit lanterns swinging in the breeze.

A cozy bed and breakfast glows warm in the distance up a winding tree-covered hill. "Oh! I'd forgotten about the restaurant they added," I say, leaning forward in my seat to take in the view.

Edward smiles. "I've never been, but Mom likes to bring visitors here, so it must be good."

He parks at the rear of the building and comes around to help me out of the car. The small, attached restaurant has a separate entrance. He holds open the door and ushers me inside by sliding his arm around my waist.

A hostess greets us at the entrance.

"Masen," Edward says, tightening his grip on my hip. "Two."

She leads us to corner table next to a large window that looks out over the river. It's somehow the fanciest and also the most simple date I've ever been on. There's candlelight and gourmet food, but Edward talks about my last game and his last game and all the games we'll be benched for in Seattle at UW next year.

I'm almost sad to leave our little bubble to head for the dance, but we didn't get all dressed up for nothing.

Emmett and Rosalie are the first people we run into in the parking lot at Forks High. Edward set them up at her request, so of course he has to gloat about how both of them owe him. Emmett pays up by flipping him the bird. Edwards laughs it off, and we all walk to the gym together.

There's already a line for pictures, but I steer Edward over to it, anyway. "Pictures first while my hair still looks this good and so I can change shoes. These heels are killing me."

He glances at my feet and then at his Jordans. He leans in to kiss my temple and tickle my skin with his nose. There are two photographers, so the line goes quickly. Alice and Jessica show up while we're posing.

"Bella!"

I stay focused on the camera and the feel of Edward's chest under my palms. "On three, okay?" the photographer says. "One… two… smile!" The flash blinds us for a moment.

Then Edward guides me away from the backdrop and over to our friends. Alice helps me with my shoe situation and then hides my backpack behind the bleachers.

Mike pulls a flask from his jacket and tips something clear and strong into his punch and Jessica's when she holds up her cup. She shrugs. "Tyler's driving."

Emmett and Rosalie are center court, dancing the night away. I balk when Edward tries to pull me in their direction.

"I can't dance," I say.

Edward shrugs. "Neither can I."

I laugh and follow him out onto the floor. We're both as terrible as we claim to be, but it's the most fun I've had since I made him roller skate with me a few weeks ago. And just like then, every time a slow song plays, he pulls me into his arms to hold me close.

"Do you think we'd still be here if Jasper hadn't locked his keys in his car and stolen Alice's slam book that morning?" I ask.

He hugs me a little tighter. "I think so. I tried asking you all week, but fucking Jasper kept screwing me up. Then there was the lip gloss. Jesus. That would've made anyone chicken out. But Eric had already asked you, and I knew some junior named Marcus was trying to get his nerve up, so I was determined to ask you at the party and beat him to it."

"And you thought a nice, romantic dry hump would seal the deal?" I laugh.

"You weren't the only one overwhelmed, Swan." He leans down to kiss my shoulder.

I swallow. "Two more songs," I say.

He nods and moves us closer to the edge of the dancefloor. Of course, it's never that easy. Jasper catches us on the way to the bathroom and asks if we've seen Maria. I check the girls' room for him but come up empty.

She finally sticks her head out of the gym, with strains of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" bleeding from the speakers behind her. "This is my song, babe," she calls to Jasper.

He shakes his head and slaps Edward's shoulder on his way by. "Guess she beat me back," he says.

We run into Alice and Jessica at the exit closest to the parking lot. "Diner. 9:00 am," Jessica says. "You know I can't lie to Charlie, so don't be late."

"We won't," I say, hugging her first, then Alice. "See you then."

Alice really is spending the night at Jessica's. Neither of them wanted a sleepover with their dates. Not that I blame them.

Edward holds the door open for me and takes my hand for the walk to his car. "That was fun," he says. "Thanks for being my date."

"It was," I agree. "I'm glad you asked."

He fumbles in his pocket for his keys and unlocks my door. I inhale during the brief moment our chests touch, letting the mix of his skin and cologne invade my senses. Always the gentleman, he helps me into the car.

I unlock his door from the inside and toss my backpack in the backseat.

My stomach does a little flip when he slides into the seat next to me and closes his door, sealing off the rest of the world. He grins, starts the car, and lets his fingers brush my thigh when he shifts into reverse. Before I have time to react, his hand is gone and clutching the back of my headrest.

Edward turns in his seat, craning to check for cars before backing out. His neck and jaw are a breath away from my lips, so I lean forward and press a kiss where they meet beneath his ear.

The car jerks.

"Maybe not a good idea while I'm driving," he says. "I can't handle that kind of distraction."

"Sorry," I say, with a little grin to match his.

I'm not sorry at all, but I behave for the rest of the trip to his house. It's off the highway, buried in the forest, and as isolated as it gets. The glass wall shimmers in the moonlight until the harsh reflection of Edward's headlights gets close enough to ruin the view. Fat rain drops hit the windshield, but he hits the button on a remote and eases his Volvo into the garage.

My imagination runs wild for a second of all the different places this could go down: on the floor, the piano bench, here in the car…

Edward cuts the engine and grabs my bag from the backseat. I sit and chew the inside of my cheek, then open my door, get out on my own, and meet him at the front of the car.

"You okay?" he asks, slipping his palm against mine and entwining our fingers.

"I'm good," I say.

He unlocks the door to the mud room, and we toe off our shoes at the door. Edward tries to hang my backpack next to his on the coat rack, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Do you want to change?" he asks. "We could watch a movie, or…"

I step into his personal space, and our chests touch the way they did earlier on the dance floor. He swallows, and the warmth of his palm spreads at my lower back. "Or?" I ask.

"Are you hungry?" he looks away and points in the general direction of the kitchen. "We have food."

"Edward," I say.

He grins. "I didn't bring you here to steal your virtue."

"I'm practically throwing it at you."

"We've only been together a few weeks," he says. "It doesn't have to be now." He hugs me closer and plants his lips on my neck. "It doesn't have to be tonight." His breath tickles the skin beneath my ear.

"Can I show you something?" I ask.

"Of course." He takes a step back and slips his hands from my waist to his pockets. I grip the backpack strap a little tighter and follow him into the great room. Vintage black leather sofas face each other on either side of the fireplace. Edward chooses a couch and looks surprised when I take a seat on the sofa across from him. I set my backpack on the glass table between us and unzip it.

Edward leans forward in his seat, clasping his hands together loosely at his knees. He watches me pull a handful of spiral notebooks from my bag and spread them across the table. I pick up a pink one with faded yellow highlighter on the cover. '85.

I hold it out to him. He opens it and glances at the sign-in page. I had a 4-Color retractable ballpoint pen that year, so the letters of my first and last name alternate black, blue, green, and red. All of my answers do, too.

It's annoying now, but it was cool or something back then.

"Turn to the dog-eared page," I say.

He looks up at me, opens his mouth but changes his mind, and finally turns to the page I marked last night.

_**Who do you like?**_

_**13\. EAM**_

"I have proof in rainbow ink that there's nothing 'too soon' about this," I say. It's my turn to swallow, inhale, and stand. I walk around the table, and he sits up straight, opens his legs, and lets me step between them.

His fingers trail up my thighs and under my dress. He stops just below my butt cheeks, and it's hard not to sag in disappointment, but then he leans forward and runs his lips over the fabric of my dress. One of his hands eases from back to front, and without a word, he changes his mind and reaches up to pull down the hem of my hose.

I get a quick fist pump in behind his head as he eases them down my legs. He tosses them across the room when I'm free.

He sits back on his heels and shakes his head. "This is all wrong," he says. My eyes narrow, and he smiles again. "We should go to my room. This is going to take a while."

I smile and lean over to kiss him. "Now _that _is what I'm talking about, Masen." He laughs against my lips between pecks. I pull him up and onto his feet. "Which way?" I ask.

He lifts my hand into the air and spins me. Then he wraps his arms around me from behind and walks me forward. At the hall, he pauses and whispers in my ear. "You're sure, right? I mean, I can handle waiting, but I can't handle you regretting this or freaking out about it later. That wasn't fun, after Emmett's party."

I turn in his arms and put my hands on his chest. "I'm sure," I tell him with a shrug. "Now I know you like me."

He shakes his head. "I don't know how you couldn't tell." He kisses me again. "I've been to every game you've ever played in, Swan," he says against my cheek. "I'm your biggest fan."

"Okay. Where's your room?" I ask, half joking and half ready to drag him to it.

Edward takes my hand, and we walk together to the last door on the right. He tilts his head at it. "This one," he says.

I open the door, step over the threshold, and gasp. The opposite wall is made completely of glass, and the moon is bright in the distance. It lights the forest behind the house and leaves Edward's bed shadowed against the other wall.

I keep walking until I can rest my palms on the cool glass. "That's a heck of a view."

"It is," he says from behind me.

Once I've admired it long enough, I turn around to examine the rest of his room. There's a black entertainment cabinet across from the bed, but its doors are closed so I can't tell what's in it. There are built-in shelves on either side of it, and cassette tapes and LPs take up every inch of them. Edward has a lot of music.

There are trophies on a shelf in his closet, which is the only messy part of his room. He closes the door and grimaces. "I have laundry issues," he says, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it onto a chair in the corner. I watch his long, perfect fingers loosen the knot of his tie and gulp. He pulls it from his collar and unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt. The neckline of a plain white t-shirt peeks out. He catches me staring as he unfastens the buttons at his sleeves. "Bella?"

I close my mouth and take a step forward to help. My fingers tremble, but I want to see more of that t-shirt and what's under it, so I finish unbuttoning his shirt and pull it from his pants to push it off of his shoulders. He lets it fall to the ground, keeping his eyes on me instead.

I go for his belt next, and his eyes close. He exhales and reaches behind me. Cool air hits my back as he drags the zipper of my dress down, letting his knuckles tickle my skin as he goes. The dress falls forward, so I forget about Edward's pants long enough to step out of the dress.

His mouth drops open, and he stares. I'm down to a strapless black bra and matching underwear, while he's still mostly dressed. I kick my dress out of the way and pull at the hem of Edward's t-shirt. He helps me strip it off of him, and then he drops his pants and steps out of them, taking me with him and depositing both of us on the bed in a heap of limbs and skin. So much skin.

Our chests touch for real for the first time, and he traces a finger from my neck to the skin between my boobs. He keeps going, over the lacy material and down my stomach. "I want to kiss all of this." His finger stops at the hem of my panties but only for a second. Then he pulls them off, and I help as much as I can until I'm free. He goes for the clasp of my bra next, pulls it away, and tosses it over his shoulder.

I've been in his room less than two minutes, and I'm already naked. The only thing left is his boxers. He sits up on his knees between my parted legs and stares.

We had the talk, and he knows I'm on the pill. I know he's only been with one girl—someone he met at the community pool in his dad's neighborhood in Portland two summers ago. He was careful.

I trust him.

He moves over me and positions his weight on his forearm so he can kiss me without crushing me. We're skin to skin, and my nipples harden from the contact. They're not the only ones. Edward's ready to go. I can feel it on my leg.

I take a deep breath and exhale.

He pulls back to look at me. "Still okay?"

I nod and close my eyes when he lowers his mouth to my chest. I melt into the bed and block out everything else in the world but his tongue and teeth on my nipple. He waits until I'm squirming and panting to lick a path down my body.

My belly button gets a sweet peck, and the moment his tongue grazes my clit for the first time, he cups the back of my thighs and pushes until my legs are bent and my feet are flat on the bed.

At first, it's sweet, almost like a kiss. But then his fingertips blaze a trail down the back of my thigh and don't stop there. His tongue dips, and when he drags it upward, he pushes a finger into me. I gasp and lift my hips to meet his lips. He repeats the process and adds a second finger. My head pushes back onto the pillow, and my shoulders curl. His fingers speed as his flattened tongue presses against my clit. I grab the back of his head, and my thighs close, but he does it again. And again. Until I'm practically humping his face and seeing stars.

He waits until I've finished coming and calmed down some to ease his lips from my skin. "Fuck. Your thighs are even stronger than they look," he says with a satisfied grin. "I thought you were going to take my head off for a second."

I slap his chest and try to catch my breath. Before either of us has a chance to freak out or freeze up, he eases his boxers off and rolls on top of me. He uses his fingers to spread me open and rubs the head of his cock against the wetness before he pushes in and fills me.

My breath catches, and I sink my nails in his shoulders. He stalls, eyes closed and barely breathing.

"Edward?"

"Give me a second." His head drops to my neck, and he kisses the skin beneath my ear.

I shift and spread my legs wider to ease the sting. He slips deeper and moans. His lips move up to my lips, and his tongue slips into my mouth the same moment he pulls back. It takes a few awkward strokes for us to find a groove, but once we do, the discomfort ebbs and something else starts to build, low in my belly.

"Dammit," he says, stilling and burying his face in my neck as he comes. His cool breath fans my skin. "That wasn't supposed to happen so fast. It'll be better next time. I promise." He peppers kisses along my neck and chest.

I smile in the dark and nod. "I overwhelmed you."

"Yeah." He laughs, breathless and happy. "You did."

* * *

**When I first sent this to my sister, she said I should totally call it "Not Another 80s Teen Movie." But you know what I hated about 80s teen movies? They always ended with just a kiss. I wanted the awkward teen sex. ;)**

**Thank you for welcoming me back into the fold and for reading and reviewing. Thanks to Iris, M, and Nic for making me finish this. I hope you've enjoyed it. There may be another futuretake eventually. Either way, I'll see y'all again. **

**MSC**


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